


Love at First Bite: The Unlikely Tale of a Vampire (and a Magizoologist)

by morningless



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningless/pseuds/morningless
Summary: Percival is a terrible vampire, Newt might be an octopus, and there are a lot of deer.





	

"Please don't eat me," is the first thing Newt says to the vampire when they meet.

"That's a lovely coat. Have you got a tailor around here?" is the second, because Theseus once told Newt that complimenting people goes a long way in making them like you, and if there's a time for this strategy to work, this is it.

He can't quite tell through the lines of the net pressed against his face, but he thinks the vampire frowns. Oh dear. Perhaps Theseus had been having a laugh at him after all.

"You are a very strange deer." The vampire says at last. He has an American accent, which is quite unexpected in the Black Forest.

"I'm not a deer," Newt says helpfully. Though there had been a deer earlier, which was really the only reason he was dangling from a tree. Damn his helpful nature. "I'm Newt."

"You're a human." The vampire says. "Not a newt."

"Well, yes and no. I'm a human named Newt." He wonders if he should ask whether he's going to be eaten again, or perhaps if he shouldn't push the topic, in case the vampire's forgotten. He doesn't seem to be the brightest.

The vampire scowls and waves a hand, and suddenly Newt's plummeting to the ground. He hits it with a wince, but what hurts even more is when he sits up and checks his wand pocket to find nothing.

"My wand!" He says mournfully. Ollivander is going to be cross with him; this is the third time this year. The vampire stops at the edge of the clearing and turns around.

"You're a wizard?" He demands.

"Er?" He replies, which is not really a yes or a no, but he finds himself being whisked off anyway.

The vampire's lair does not really so much resemble a lair as it does a small wooden cabin. There's a fire going, and Newt gets deposited on a very soft rug in front of it. In the better light, he can see that the vampire is really quite handsome. Features very well-suited to brooding, he thinks, taking in the bold eyebrows and dark eyes. Newt would probably make a terrible vampire. Not very brooding at all.

"If you're going to eat me, can I perhaps have a last request?" Damn it, he thinks. He doesn't sound very compelling. The vampire just frowns at him. He does an awful lot of that. Perhaps it's a vampire thing.

"I'm not going to eat you. I don't do that."

Newt, curse his mouth, responds, "Well, you're not a very good vampire, are you?"

The vampire's lip quirks and he raises an eyebrow at Newt.

"I only drink animal blood. Mostly deer. Sometimes wolves." He clarifies.

"Oh. That's - lovely. Might I ask what I'm doing here, then?" He's already planning how to get back to his suitcase.

"You're a wizard. The vampires in this area are in hiding from your kind right now. I can't let you go."

Newt deflates.

"I won't tell anyone," He promises. "Just need to get my case and my wand and I'll be out of your hair as soon as possible."

The vampire gives a sort of half-smirk. Oh dear, he is really *quite* good-looking.

"I'd like to trust you," He says, "But the others will smell you on my traps, and I'd really rather not be driven out of here."

"So you're going to keep me captive here forever?" Newt exclaims, horrified. The vampire looks at him as if he's stupid.

"What? No. I'm going to take you to the Council. We'll find someone to Obliviate you and you'll be on your merry way. You'll be here a week or two at best." He opens a cabinet and takes down two glasses and a decanter with amber liquid in it, pouring a little into each. "I don't exactly have a guest bedroom."

"That's much better," says Newt, relieved. He chugs the whisky when it's offered to him, and ignores the vampire's disapproving look. "Er - might I ask your name?"

The vampire is silent for a moment, and then he says,

"I don't have one."

"Really? Do vampires normally not? That must make it very confusing when you meet."

"No, most - well, everyone does. I just...don't." He seems reticent to say any more about it, and Newt's not really in a position to push.

"Well, I can't exactly call you the vampire for the time being. How about I give you a name?" Newt offers. The vampire raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't seem displeased.

"You can try." He says.

"Well, I suppose Dracula's a bit - hmm. How about Percy?" Theseus says he's awful at names, but perhaps the vampire won't know any better. Unfortunately, he gives Newt an unamused look.

"I think I would be better suited to something a little more - dignified." The vampire says haughtily.

"Percival?" Newt tries, and that gets him a smile so radiant he almost forgets about the fangs.

* * *

"I am already regretting not eating you," Percival informs Newt when the wizard insists on finding his damned suitcase, and then again when the wizard makes him go into the suitcase and meet his damn creatures, and again when the Niffler takes his pocket watch. Each time, Newt gives the same response, which is to smile benignly and encourage him to meet another creature.

"He likes you," Newt says, pleased. "He's not giving it back because he likes the attention."

Percival glares at the thing and hopes that eyes that shoot fire might be a vampire ability. If it is, it doesn't choose this moment to manifest.

He regrets not draining Newt yet again when it comes time to sleep that night.

"If you have an extra blanket, I could sleep on the rug." Newt offers.

"I don't." Percival tells him.

"Oh," Newt chews at his lip. "Well, perhaps I could just -"

"It's fine." He cuts him off. "We can share the bed, it's big enough." Newt's eyes go comically wide in his head, and then even wider when Percival begins shedding his clothes.

A moment later, when he's down to his boxers, he turns back to the wizard.

"You're wearing boxers," Newt sounds strangled. "How...modern."

"Are they?" Percival shrugs.

Newt wears boxers too, as it turns out. His body isn't as solidly built as Percival's, more lean and slender, with bony wrists and ankles that end up digging into the vampire throughout the night, because it turns out that while the bed is big enough for both of them, Newt is a _cuddler_.

"Get off," Percival tells him flatly when he wakes up in the middle of the night with the man's head nestled on his chest, one arm and leg thrown across Percival's body, but he doesn't actually say it loud enough to wake Newt. He looks unbearably peaceful, auburn lashes sooty on his freckled cheeks, and for a moment there is a lump in Percival's throat.

He lets him sleep.

The dreams don't bother him that night.

A week into their arrangement, Percival takes Newt to town. He regrets it immediately when they enter the tavern and the other vampires swarm Newt, fawning over him immediately.

"He let you give him a name?" exclaims Abernathy. "And he answers to it?"

"We called him Colin for a while, but he didn't seem to like that." Tina explains.

"Ooh, honey, he didn't mention you were so _cute_ ," coos Queenie. Percival glares at her, but the fire-shooting eyes still aren't a thing.

Newt chuckles and flushes bright red, bringing his hand up to wipe at his nose abashedly. For a moment, Percival is gripped with a Victorian need to shout at him to cover his wrists.

Seraphina makes her way up to him.

"Your pet is pretty," She says. He glares at her too. " _Percival_."

"He's not my pet. He's...I found him." He says defensively.

"Ah, but you don't deny he's pretty." She grins. "Are you sure you want to let the Council see him? Viktor might just eat him up, you know."

Percival must make a face at that, because Seraphina cackles with glee. She's always trying to get a rise out of him, and the grin only gets wider when he asks for a pillow.

"Only a pillow? Not a blanket? Or another bedframe?" She asks. He tries to keep a straight face. "Percival, your poker face is awful. You're _sleeping_ with him!"

"Not like that." He must sound strangled, because she makes a face of sympathy.

"It's alright, you know," She says comfortingly. "We're too small in number to be judgmental."

He narrows his eyes at her, because only one of them regularly sends Owls from Council meetings criticizing Viktor's hair, and it's not him.

* * *

At the tavern, Newt learns quite a lot about Percival. He came to the Black Forest a year ago, very confused - " _Much_ more confused than he is now, he was just precious back then," Queenie sighs - and with a suitcase full of odd things, like tailored suits and hair product.

"We think he must have been on the run - Americans, you know, so prejudiced - and got into it with some wizard on his way here, that's why he doesn't remember anything," Tina confides.

"Maybe that's why he's a little funny in the head," adds Queenie with a giggle. "Doesn't like to drain humans, can you imagine! What a vampire."

"Is that alright? You know, for him to only drink animal blood?" Newt asks. Tina and Queenie exchange looks.

"Well, it's working out for him so far." Tina muses. "He doesn't use a lot of magic, even for a vampire, so I guess it's alright."

"You need human blood to do magic?" Newt asks, startled.

"Yep. If they're a wizard or witch, even better." Queenie winks at him. "But don't worry, we won't touch you. We were getting worried about Percival, you know, all alone in his cabin like that, but you're pretty swell. He seems to like you."

Newt glances over at the vampire in question, who is in conversation with a black woman that's smirking like a cat that got the cream. Percival looks up and frowns at him.

"Does he?" Newt asks, and chuckles nervously. "Well, I won't be around for much longer, you know - just need to get Obliviated and I'll be off."

"Oh, by the Council? They're traveling around Europe right now. We don't know when they'll be back." Queenie says cheerfully. Percival comes over then, with a sack that he thrusts at Newt. He's glaring at Queenie for some reason, but she just smiles at him beatifically.

"I got you a toothbrush and some of those herbs you said you needed for your creatures. And a pillow." He says, and that's how Newt knows he's going to be there for a while.

He settles in. Life with Percival becomes a routine - wake up, feed his creatures, eat breakfast, then venture out with Percival to check the traps and look for creatures. Percival turns out to be a lovely companion once he lets his guard down, with wry humor and a touching sense of chivalry and concern for Newt and his creatures.

The late afternoon is often spent with Newt documenting the creatures he's encountered that day and Percival reading whatever Seraphina's brought him that week, and over dinner, Newt questions him about vampires and other magical creatures. Surprisingly, Percival doesn't get as annoyed with his questions as he'd expect. The vampire grudgingly answers as many as he can, and the ones he doesn't know, he goes to town and asks the others about, and brings their responses back to Newt, painstakingly written down.

When he learns that Percival can eat, Newt starts cooking for both of them, insisting that "Not eating proper food is the reason all you vampires are so pale and gaunt, and it would be such a waste - " He cuts himself off before he can say _of your_ _lovely muscles_. Percival raises a questioning eyebrow at him but Newt just turns back to the pan, ears burning red.

Nighttime is the part he looks forward to the most, though of course he can't admit that to Percival. Contrary to his expectations, the vampire is as warm as a human, and he always smells lovely, like sandlewood and lavender. And he never says anything about how Newt's body is dreadfully traitorous and wraps itself around him at night. In fact, recently, Newt's been waking to the feeling of a hand carding through his hair, or resting on his hip. Of course, as soon as he gives any sign he's awake, Percival shoves him right off, so he's not entirely sure he's not just imagining it.

Still, Newt can't ignore the fact that he can't stay here forever. Someday he'll have his memories wiped, and leave the Black Forest. He'll have to forget Percival, and that thought makes something in him clench.

* * *

He complains a lot about Newt's incessant questioning, but quite honestly, Percival has a lot of questions for Newt too.

Like, _How is it you can create a zoo in your suitcase but you can't figure out a way to contain that damned Niffler?_

Or, _Why is it you can take out an Erkling without so much as a flinch, but you can't look me in the eye?_

And, _Are you sure there's not any octopus in your bloodline, because that might explain why I always wake up in a cocoon of your limbs?_

Most of all, though, he wants to ask things that shouldn't really matter. Like, what Newt's favorite dish is. How he likes his tea. When his birthday is, and what he might want that Percival could barter off Picquery or make from stuff he can find in the woods.

Whether he might consider staying, if only Percival can find a good enough reason for him to.

But these are foolish thoughts to have, for a vampire who doesn't even know where he's from, whose wealth mostly consists of venison steaks and one almost-finished bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. To keep Newt, who is passionate and fascinating and so very caring - who has too much love in his heart to give to just one person (or creature) - that is a dream that Percival cannot allow himself to have.

The life is a vampire is ultimately a lonely one, Picquery said when he first came here. They come together sometimes, but the hatred and fear of others drives them apart when they would find love, friendship, family otherwise.

Percival doesn't know where he came from, but he must not have had a choice in leaving. He won't subject Newt to that too.

One day, Seraphina comes into town with news.

"Oh, Percy," She says sympathetically afterwards. His face must be doing something that he doesn't want it to. It's been doing an awful lot of that since Newt came. She passes him something long, wrapped in paper. It almost seems to hum in his hand. "This'll make it easier, maybe."

When he comes back to the cabin, Newt is humming as he stirs a soup, the fire is crackling, and the Niffler is dozing on the bed (where he's not really allowed to be). And though Percival does not believe in beating around the bush, and though he has convinced himself of all the reasons Newt has to leave, he still wants nothing more than to keep this moment, shimmering and sweet.

Except the Niffler, but that's another matter.

"Did you get those tomatoes Seraphina promised she'd bring?" Newt asks brightly, head turning with the opening of the door. "Or chicken? I'd settle for any other meat besides deer at this point, really."

Percival doesn't know what to say, so he just hands him the package.

"Oh, is this for me? What -" Newt's mouth works but no sound comes out as he unwraps his wand. Finally, he swallows and says, looking down, "You found it."

"Seraphina did." Percival corrects. "It's her - gift to you. For your departure." Newt does look up then, green eyes shining in the glow of the cabin. "The Council will be here tomorrow. You can be gone as soon as nightfall."

"Oh," Newt says softly, and then his eyes are back on the floor. Then he squares his shoulders and turns back to the soup. "Well, I suppose it had to happen eventually. Did you get those tomatoes?"

Percival produces the tomatoes and chicken from his sack, and Newt smiles at him, but something in it doesn't feel right. Perhaps he should have asked Seraphina for bacon too.

Dinner is uncharacteristically quiet, and as they get into bed, Percival surprises both of them, but especially himself, by being the first to reach for Newt, turning on his side so he can grip his shoulder. Newt lifts his face from the pillow.

"I -" Percival feels like he's suffocating as he tries to find the right words. "I'm glad we met."

Newt smiles tentatively, and this time feels more real.

"I am as well," He whispers back, and Percival lets his eyes close, because if this is the last thing he sees, he might dream of it tonight.

* * *

 

Newt's not very good at knowing when to be quiet, but somehow, on their last morning together, he knows that he should be silent. He wakes up before Percival this time, and he lays there, enjoying the simple peace of the moment.

When Percival wakes, he brushes a thumb across Newt's cheekbone before whispering,

"I should say goodbye to the creatures, shouldn't I?"

They dress in the dim morning light, and Percival goes down first. The Niffler is the saddest, but the occamies give him a right run for his money, chittering as they slink over and around Percival's neck. One nestles in his hair, and Percival smiles fondly as he places it back in the nest.

Then he straightens and turns to Newt, offering his arm.

"Shall we?" He asks.

It does not seem like the right question, nor does Newt have the right answer.

There are seven vampires on the Council. Viktor, whom both Seraphina and Percival do not seem to like, is the Head of it. Newt does not like him much either, as the pale vampire seems to almost salivate over him.

"Mr. Scamander," Viktor purrs. "I have been informed of your situation by Ms. Picquery here. Unfortunately, we have an - issue."

"An issue?" Newt inquires, chuckling nervously, though there is something dangerous in Viktor's tone that makes him want to reach for his wand. Too bad it's in Percival's coat.

"Well, you see, while Obliviation is our usual tactic, Obliviation as we vampires do it has several limitations, you see." Viktor stands up and moves around the table. "Primarily, that of _time_."

The other vampires in the Council are nodding with his words. Newt glances at them, and they refuse to meet his eyes.

"You see, Mr. Scamander, we are unable to perfectly remove or obscure your memories past a period of one month, and you have been here for two. So, what are we to do?"

Viktor stands in front of Newt and reaches out to take his chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes. Newt swallows. Something is - wrong. Very wrong.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Scamander, the secrecy of our comrades' locations is second to none. As Head of the Vampire Council, I'm afraid I must sentence you to death." Viktor smiles as if he's just told Newt he's giving him a kitten, and Newt jerks out of his touch with a gasp. He stumbles back.

"What the hell?" Percival is the first to shout, and then Seraphina is shouting too, and some of the other vampires that Newt has met from town are standing up and making a ruckus.

"You cannot question my judgment," Viktor says serenely, and there it is again, that _flash_ of -

Viktor raises a glowing hand and reaches for Newt.

Someone shouts, "Revelio!" and Viktor's features are twisting like melting wax -

The vampire jerks back and snarls, reaching into his coat -

The eyes become beady and the hair lengthens and pales -

Percival roars, and the whole world shatters in a blast of light.

When Newt opens his eyes again, he sees darkness. Then Percival, standing alone in the middle of the forest, staring at Newt's wand in his hand. There are only trees for miles - no more buildings, no other vampires - and suddenly Newt understands what has been happening all along.

"It was all your magic." He breathes. "You - you're so powerful - you _made_ those people, they were practically real, they were -"

"They were real." Percival says. "I knew them. Somehow."

He starts walking away. Luckily, the cabin is still real, and so is the whisky that Percival pours for both of them, and as Newt tips the liquid back, he is reminded of their first meeting.

Percival doesn't look at him until he's swirling the last drops in his glass. Newt meets his dark, unreadable eyes, and gives him as hopeful of a smile as he can manage.

"Hullo," He offers, and Percival _breaks_. It all happens before Newt can process it, really, and suddenly he's being pressed up against the wall and the vampire is pressing his face to the place where Newt's neck meets his shoulder. He just breathes there raggedly, not moving. Slowly, Newt brings a hand up to rub his back.

He doesn't know how long they remain like that until Percival lifts his head, and this time, his eyes are full of something else. He lays a hand on Newt's cheek, and suddenly Newt thinks he might understand, for once -

Warm, dry lips press against his own, chaste, and then return, opening a little more this time, sweeter, hungrier, and Newt's lips part in response -

He opens his eyes when Percival doesn't kiss him a third time.

"We have to talk first." The vampire says, and Newt feels somewhat put out, because the statement seems incongruous with Percival's actions, but he supposes he has to cut him some slack. He follows him to the dining table, where they sit across from each other, and this time the distance seems too far.

"So I was a wizard. Or still am, apparently." Percival says. "And - I created this entire place. But why? How? I mean, I didn't even know I was doing any of this."

Newt brightens, because talking about magical theory and puzzles really does excite him, and he's been pondering this for the whole walk back to the cabin.

"If I may?" He asks, and Percival gives him the wand back. "This may feel a little strange."

He casts a few diagnostic spells, and hums as they confirm some of his ideas and rule out others.

"Someone worked quite a complicated bit of spellwork on your mind," He says. "I believe they originally just wanted to get rid of all memory of who you were, but you see, gaps that large practically demand to be filled or the victims go insane. Your magic must have constructed the town for you, and filled in the characters with people you actually knew, as so to give you some way of adjusting to the memory loss and the bite."

Percival's eyebrows are knit together in thought.

"That could make sense," He says at last. "Though there's still much to be explained. But - why would my magic want you dead? And what was that, with Viktor, at the end?"

"Grindelwald." Newt corrects, and the name brings a flash of recognition to the other man's eyes. "Yes, I'll expect you'll remember who he is soon enough. I don't think it was so much wanting me dead, as it was wanting to be - free, in a sense. Your magic has been guiding you, all along, and near the end - finding my wand, bringing the Council back, having Grindelwald reappear - it was simply setting up a way to get you to break the illusion and remember."

"But I still don't remember _anything_." Percival says, pained. "I just get these flashes that don't make any sense."

"We'll give it time," Newt says as comfortingly as he can. Percival nods, and then sighs, letting his head sink onto his folded arms on the table. The tension in his shoulders looks painful, and Newt reaches out without thinking.

Percival flinches, and Newt startles back. He winces at the rejection, and Percival looks up, guilty.

"It's quite alright," Newt says, because he doesn't know what else to say. Percival is just learning that he used to be an entirely different person altogether. He's lost his name, his life, and that life might have had someone else in it. A lover, or a wife. Perhaps Newt has been playing a role in this fantastical set-up as well.

"It wouldn't be right, would it?" He asks, and tries to smile. It doesn't have the effect he hopes for, as Percival's expression shuts off and he looks away.

"I'm going to go check the traps." The vampire mutters as he gets up and puts his coat back on.

"If they're real," He adds a moment later.

Then Newt is sitting there, alone, wondering how he's managed to muck things up as always.

* * *

Percival's memories come back to him in fragments over the next week.

"You know," He says over breakfast one day, "I do believe my name is actually Percival."

Newt swallows his porridge too hastily in surprise, and the moment ends with Percival clapping him on the back vigorously.

"Wait until Theseus hears about this!" Newt crows after he can breathe again, which makes no sense.

They start keeping a list, and add to it their own assumptions based on his possessions and mannerisms. Together, they figure out that he is most likely from New York City, or another city located nearby on the East Coast. ("Perhaps Boston?" Percival adds, and Newt gives him a blank look that suggests he has no idea what a Boston is.) That he was an Auror. And that he was a victim of Grindelwald.

"What do we do now?" Percival asks. There are other questions, too, like _Why haven't you left me yet?_ , but he's not brave enough to ask.

"What do you want to do?" Newt asks in return, face open and sincere.

Percival bites down on _Anything if it's with you_ and instead says,

"I should go back to New York. See what's happened with my life." It goes without saying, of course, that he would most likely not be able to return to his old life, but he wants to know what happened to him.

Newt smiles.

"We'll leave tomorrow then."

They can't Apparate with the case, so they go on foot to the closest wizarding town where Newt Owls his family to let them know he's alright (he leaves out the part where he was a vampire's captive for two months), and from there, make their way through France until they reach the coast. Percival subsists off of rare steaks and the occasional butcher robbery, and along the way, they perfect the glamour that hides his fangs and restores some color to his skin.

"Will you be alright for the ship ride?" Newt asks him anxiously the night before they depart. Percival looks at the five live deer that Newt has crammed into his case for him. Normally one deer's worth of blood lasts him a week.

"I believe I'll survive." He says dryly.

They are in New York within the week.

Remarkably, it only takes them about ten minutes to find Tina - the real Tina, who is eating a hot dog and watching some No-Maj woman shout. Newt says he should approach her in case Percival gives her a fright, which is a good idea, but he leads off his approach by calling her Tina, which is not a good idea. She has her wand at his throat in a flash, and Percival feels a burst of pride.

He clears his throat from behind her.

"Please don't kill him," He says, and she whirls around.

"Director Graves!" She cries. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The first thing he thinks is that his last name is incredibly ironic. The second is that Tina's given a rather understated response considering Percival's been gone for the last year.

Unless..

"Tina," He says slowly. "When's the last time we spoke?"

* * *

Percival's magic has been greatly changed by his turning, but Newt finds himself deeply impressed by the vampire's quick handling of his new abilities. Leave it to the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA, he thinks with pride as he watches Percival blast Grindelwald against various surfaces.

"Should we help him?" Tina inquires, though he suspects she does it more out of politeness than anything. Percival is handling himself rather well. Seraphina - who is apparently _President_ of MACUSA! - is hiding a smirk as she watches.

"We should let him play a little longer," Newt suggests. "I suspect he's upset Grindelwald kept his favorite coat."

After the whole debacle is over and Grindelwald is taken into custody, there is another kerfuffle when they discover his plans.

"You saw me doing _what_." Percival looks pained. The goblin informant they have in custody shrugs.

"Just like. Touching this No-Maj kid all lovey-dovey like. Though you were getting some weird hanky-panky on during the work day."

Newt goes with the Aurors to find Credence while Percival recovers from the affront to his professionalism. Tina helps him explain everything to Credence, and then he spends two weeks with the young man to help him separate the Obscurus. When he returns to Percival's apartment afterwards, he sleeps like the dead.

When he wakes, he almost thinks he's back in the cabin again. The smell of freshly cooked sausages and porridge wafts through the living room, and he follows it to the kitchen, where Percival is cooking.

"You're awake," He observes. "You've been asleep for almost two days."

He waves his hand and two bowls fill themselves with porridge, while the sausages arrange themselves on a platter.

"It's over now." Newt says between bites.

"Is it?" Percival raises an eyebrow, and Newt flushes.

"I'm sorry?" He offers tentatively, and Percival sighs, lines disappearing from his face.

"I'm sorry, Newt." He murmurs. "I'm just - having difficulties with all of this. I didn't mean to take it out on you. You have nothing to apologize for."

But he does, Newt thinks, he's completely forgotten that while he was working with Credence, Graves has been putting the pieces of his life back together.

"How is everything going?" He asks softly. Percival's expression closes off.

"I'll manage." He says gruffly. He waves his hand and the food on his plate disappears, and gets up to leave.

"Percival!" Newt cries out, unable to help it, uncaring if he seems desperate. There's been a distance between them since the kiss, and he wants to be rid of it. Even if they can't be lovers, he at least wants to keep Percival as a friend.

"What?!" Percival turns back and snarls, and the glamour shatters, revealing gleaming fangs. Newt sits back in his chair, startled. "What do you want with me, Newt? Why are you still here? Isn't it clear by now that what we want isn't the same? I want - and you say it's _not right_ -"

By that point, Newt has stood up and reached out for Percival, one hand palm-up. Percival stops, nostrils flaring, as he looks at it.

"What are you doing?" He asks, and Newt thinks he probably wouldn't like it if he explained that it was one of the tactics he used to calm down raging beasts.

"Slow down, please." He says instead. "What do you mean about what we want? I want to be friends, Percival -"

"And I want more than that!" Percival snaps.

Oh.

What?

Newt blinks.

"More?" He asks uncertainly.

Percival looks defeated, and then he gives a self-deprecating smile.

"It's alright." He says coldly. "It wouldn't be right for a vampire and human to mix, would it?"

Suddenly the words come back to Newt.

"Oh!" He exclaims. "That's not what I meant by that - not at all -"

"You don't have to make excuses, I know I'm basically just another creature to you -"

"I thought it was you not wanting me!" Newt blurts, and he flushes, embarrassed. Percival's mouth falls open at that.

"Are you _crazy_?" He demands. "I kissed you!"

"Well, you know - in the Black Forest, I must have seemed like - a rather grand prospect, being that everyone else was either a deer or a figment of your imagination, but here - " Newt gestures helplessly, then shrugs.

Percival surges forward to cup Newt's face in his hands.

"You," He murmurs, pressing his forehead against Newt's, eyes closing as if he's let go of some great burden. "You are so much better than any deer."

In retrospect, it is not an incredibly romantic thing to say, and they leave that part out when they tell their story to the New York Ghost, but the kiss afterwards makes up for it by far.

**Author's Note:**

> poorly disguised excuse to write trashy vampire and bedsharing trope fic, whoops  
> title taken from the movie 
> 
> find me at tumblr @ morningless.tumblr.com


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